


Mine

by Smokemycancer



Category: Shameless (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokemycancer/pseuds/Smokemycancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just can’t get it off his mind. The feelings that come with being thrown into a dumpster. Lip’s part in the act pissed Frank off. But not as much as Ian’s. Because what right did Ian have being as the bastard doesn’t actually belong in that house and Frank does! It is his house!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago and just never bothered posting it. Enjoy!

Frank Gallagher hates many things. What spurred this on is that Fiona had her lackeys throw him out of his own home. Again. He helps them, gives them everything, the little grubbers, and they throw him out? Well Fuck this! Frank hates his daughter like he hates his wife. Hates his wife like he hates his mother and hates his mother like he hates his entire family. Especially his rich brother who fucked his wife and fathered a kid that Frank is putting up. And Frank mulls on this, drunk and stumbling toward his house, fists balled up by his hips. Cussing and rambling under his breath to only himself. Because apparently no one else can be fucked to listen. He hates that to, being ignored all the time. His mother had always ignored him. Toward the end, Monica ignored him too. And now his own children!

He just can’t get it off his mind. The feelings that come with being thrown into a dumpster. Lip’s part in the act pissed Frank off. But not as much as Ian’s. Because what right did Ian have being as the bastard doesn’t actually belong in that house and Frank does! It is his house!

Marching through the gate and up his front steps, Frank knows he has only one way of solving this problem. Prove his Alpha male status by knocking jarhead on his ass. So that’s exactly what Frank is going to do.

He reaches out and grabs the doorknob, storming into the house unannounced. Standing in the doorway, Frank looks over his family, all standing around the kitchen, arguing about dinner and responsibilities. Ha! Frank wants to vomit with laughter. The responsible act on their behalf would be letting Frank do his damn job! To do that, he needs to be at home. In his home!

Mine, Frank thinks as he pusses up his face and puts his hands on his hips, staring down the family who has only just noticed him. Frank sees Ian’s sneer and wants to kick the kid between the eyes.

“Well,” Frank sings, dragging out the word dramatically, slurring. “Isn’t this the perfect family portrait,” he says, striding into the kitchen to join them. He grins and nods at all of them and then stoops over Ian and takes a huge bite of the boy’s apple after snatching it up. He makes sure to eat it messily, let the juice speckle Ian’s face. “An apple a day might keep the doctor away, son,” Frank says, “but you’ll need a lot more than your health to throw me out of my house again!” And this sentence makes perfect sense because it just does. Maybe Frank could word it better. Add to it. “My house,” Frank points out, pushing the tip of his finger harshly into Ian’s forehead.

Ian slaps Frank’s hand away, a look of pure malice washing over his freckled face. “Don’t you ever touch me,” Ian spits, words dripping with venom. “Get out of my face, Frank,” he says deep and deadpan.

“Stop. Move away from him,” Fiona warns, and to Frank, her voice sounds wary.

She must see how serious Frank is this time. He looks at her and hates her. Looks back at Ian and hates him even more. Bares his teeth and pulls back his hand, ready to go in for the kill. Prove what he can do. Before the liquor and coke starts to wear off.

At this point, Johnny-Jerry-Jack, Stimmy whatever his name is, jumps up and rushes at Frank, pushing him away from Ian. Frank stumbles, and yells incoherently. Anger courses through him because he can’t seem to convey himself properly. He needs another line or a drink to remedy the problem. Then he’ll come back and start over. WIthout a word, he leaves his house.

His house.

Mine, Frank thinks as he stumbles down the street toward the Alibi again. “And fuck you all for this damned mutiny, you ungrateful shits!” he yells out, arms in the air, furious. “I’m taking it back!” he screams just before tripping over his own feet and falling into a neighbor’s trash can. He hits his head and gets sleepy. Stays there until morning.

Empowerment can wait just one more day.


End file.
